Page 75 of Thor

"You're so small," I murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

She reached up to trace the lines of my face, her touch gentle as a whisper. "And you're so big."

"Too big?" I asked, suddenly conscious of our size difference.

Her lips curved into a smile that was equal parts shy and wicked. "Perfect size."

I lowered my head to capture her mouth with mine, the kiss deep and thorough. Her arms wound around my neck, pulling me closer as our tongues tangled. I could feel her nipples hardening against my chest, the heat of her core against my thigh.

My hands explored her body with worshipful attention—cupping the weight of her breasts, thumbs brushing across sensitive nipples, tracing the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips. Each touch drew a different sound from her—sighs, whimpers, soft moans that went straight to my already aching cock.

I slid one hand between us, finding the wet heat between her thighs. She gasped as my fingers parted her folds, exploring gently, learning what made her breath catch and her hips rise to meet my touch.

"Thor," she breathed, her voice ragged. "Please."

"Please what, baby girl?" I asked, needing to hear her say it.

Her eyes, dark with desire, locked with mine. "I need you inside me. Now."

The naked want in her voice broke something loose in me. I positioned myself at her entrance, the head of my cock sliding through her wetness. With deliberate control, I began to push into her, watching her face carefully for any sign of discomfort.

There was a moment of resistance—she was tight, and I wasn't small—but then her body yielded, accepting me inch by inch. Her expression shifted from momentary discomfort to unmistakable pleasure as I filled her completely.

Once fully seated within her, I paused, giving her time to adjust and myself a moment to regain control. The sensation of her hot, tight channel surrounding me was almost overwhelming. I'd had plenty of women before, but none had fit me like this—like we were made for each other.

"You okay?" I managed, my voice strained with the effort of holding still.

She nodded, her hands sliding up my arms to my shoulders, nails digging in slightly. "More than okay. You feel . . ." She shifted her hips experimentally, drawing a groan from me. "You feel perfect."

I began to move then, slow, deep thrusts that had her gasping with each stroke. Her legs wrapped around my waist, changing the angle, allowing me to sink even deeper.

"Mine," I growled against her throat, the word bubbling up from some primal place inside me. I hadn't meant to say it—hadn't consciously thought it—but as soon as it left my lips, I knew it was true. This woman, with her copper hair and dual nature that matched my own, was mine. To protect. To cherish. To pleasure.

"Yours," she agreed, her voice breathless as she moved with me, our bodies finding a rhythm that built steadily in intensity.

The room filled with the sounds of our joining—the soft gasps and moans, the whispered encouragements, the rustle of the quilt beneath us, the slick sounds of our bodies coming together. In the amber light, beads of sweat glistened on her skin, making her look as if she were dusted with gold.

I shifted position slightly, changing the angle of my thrusts to hit the spot that made her back arch and her breath catch. Her fingers clutched at my shoulders, nails leaving crescent marks that I'd wear proudly tomorrow.

"Right there," she gasped. "Don't stop."

As if I could. The sight of her beneath me, lost in pleasure I was giving her, was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I maintained the rhythm, watching her face as she climbed higher, her inner muscles tightening around me with each stroke.

"That's it, baby girl," I encouraged, my voice rough with exertion and need. "Let go for me."

Her eyes flew open at the endearment, locking with mine. Something passed between us—a recognition, an acknowledgment of what was happening not just physically but emotionally.

"Thor," she breathed, her voice taking on a different quality—higher, softer. The voice of her Little self.

The sound of it, here in this context, nearly undid me. My rhythm faltered for a moment before I regained control, driving into her with renewed purpose.

"I'm here," I told her, one hand moving to cradle her face. "I've got you."

Her expression was open, vulnerable in a way that had nothing to do with our physical nakedness. She was showing me her true self—all of her, the professional accountant and the Little girl, merged into one whole person in my arms.

"Close," she gasped, her body tightening around me. "So close."

"Me too," I admitted, feeling the familiar pressure building at the base of my spine. "Together."

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